


my tongue is a weapon

by selenedaydreams



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Post-Star Trek Beyond, Sexy Linguistics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 14:04:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7643485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selenedaydreams/pseuds/selenedaydreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When she finishes, Jaylah smiles again but there’s a softness to it that wasn’t there before. “I like you, Nyota Uhura.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	my tongue is a weapon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [plinys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/gifts).



> Honestly, I have no other explanation for this fic other than the fact that I wanted to write ladies in space and I wanted to give Jess an amazing gift. One day I'll stop using Halsey lyrics for titles but today is not that day.
> 
> See the end for linguistic related notes.

She spends the majority of her time with Scotty.

Uhura notices so at Kirk’s surprise birthday party, the way she gravitates towards him in every capacity, joining each and every one of his conversations which seems to make him incredibly proud.

It’s a father-daughter dynamic that manifests in such a natural way that Uhura can’t help but smile as she sips on her champagne. That new family feeling never does get old.

Standing in a far off corner, Bones, Kirk, and Spock are wrapped up in an animated conversation that has the resident doctor sighing audibly and shaking his head while Kirk attempts to explain something that she doesn’t quite catch, not that she has any interest too, anyway. Not surprisingly, Sulu and his husband are cozied up on the far end of the couch, talking quietly while their daughter sleeps with her head pillowed on Ben’s lap, her fingers gently curling in the fabric of his pants. Chekov, albeit somewhat awkwardly, seems to be trying to shift closer to Jaylah with each opportunity he finds, stealing quick glances at her when he thinks she can’t see her.

She does, Uhura sees the recognition in her eyes and the way she pivots just slightly out of his reach, turning further towards Scotty and away from him, not that either of them seem to notice, Chekov too concentrated on his failing flirting technique while Scotty is just a little too focused on whatever liquor his tumbler is filled to the brim with.

Uhura continues sipping her champagne, only her second flute so far, while inching closer to the large windows to watch the progress of the rebuilding of their starship. _Their home._ To think that only days ago they had all been on the brink of death is both unimaginable and indescribable in a way that still makes her blood run cold.

Shaking off those memories never works, they embed themselves somewhere deep in your mind and come back to haunt you when you least expect it. Or want it.

The champagne tastes nice, something fruity and aromatic, but it does nothing to calm her and judging from the growing pile of tumbler and bottles on the table Jaylah had propped her feet on earlier, the same can be said about her. There’s a strange sort of comfort that comes out of knowing you’re not alone and Uhura’s not sure if she’s entirely proud of that line of thinking.

There are faint footsteps behind her, deliberate just loud enough to be heard, and Uhura doesn’t need to turn around to know exactly who it is.

“You keep looking at me.”

It’s direct but no accusatory. Uhura’s lips curve into a smile around the rim of her flue while Jaylah steps beside her, their shoulders brushing for a brief moment in a way that is anything but accidental and every bit a silent challenge with yet unnamed stakes.

“I think you’re referring to Chekov.” Uhura says. “He’s been trying to get closer to you all evening.”

“Yes. Him too.” Jaylah agrees with a swift nod. “But you also.”

Uhura isn’t in the business of lying, a few too many days spent by Spock’s side will have that effect. Still, she sees no reason to deny it. Jaylah doesn’t appear angry or really, anything for that matter. Her poker face is impeccable and it frustrates Uhura only a little.

“You’ve been watching everyone.” Uhura mimics her blank tone. Stating a fact rather than accusing her of something that she already knows to be true.

Jaylah’s lips curl into a predatory smile. “Yes, but mostly you.”

**\---**

Uhura doesn’t give their interaction much thought. Or so she forces herself to do, blaming the alcohol for their short conversation and changing gears anytime it comes to mind again.

For the next few days, they all go their separate ways. Uhura, for the most part, steers clear of everyone, using their mandatory time off as a much needed vacation and a reason to catch up on her reading. Browsing the news manages to captivate her attention only for a little while and soon enough she’s scanning through recent linguistic publications. Madge Pinker, Steven Pinker’s great-granddaughter, continues to carry on his legacy, writing less than kind reviews of articles she doesn’t consider adequate enough. This particular one successfully rips to shreds a recent theory on the reemergence of clicks in Terran languages and Uhura finds herself agreeing despite the nasty insults.

That’s the highlight of her day until when she stumbles upon Jaylah in a moment of private reverie in the library late that night. Her fingers move with deadly accuracy as she scribbles elaborate script in a leather bound notebook that could have only come from Kirk. Uhura doesn’t mean to stare but she can’t will herself to look away. The curves and swirls in her writing remind her of Georgian but more elegant somehow, more sophisticated.

“Scotty tells me you study language.” Jaylah doesn’t look up nor does she stop writing and Uhura swears she is only mildly impressed.

“Yes. I’m a linguist.” Uhura says, shifting closer to the table to have a closer look at her writing. It’s only now that she notices the distinct accent marks that seem to appear both above and below the lines of script and are far more elaborate than any others she has encountered.

Jaylah only nods at first, filling the entire page with writing before she grants Uhura her full attention but even then, Uhura seems to only have eyes for her notebook. It’s how she misses Jaylah’s private smile before she starts speaking again.

“Would you like to hear what it sounds like?”

Uhura tries to stifle her excitement but there’s nothing calm or collected about the way she nods her head and moves even closer, quickly walking around the table to sit down beside her in the empty chair almost as if being any further away would ruin the experience.

“Would you read what you wrote for me?” She asks. “I won’t ask you to translate it, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I am not worried about that.” Jaylah says before her eyes turn to the notebook and she begins reading.

Uhura is enthralled from the very first sound that parts her lips. There is no such thing as a harsh or soft sounding language and yet Uhura feels the overwhelming urge to argue that there should be a category created for elegant languages. It’s an entirely biased opinion that probably doesn’t even have anything to do with the language itself but rather the way Jaylah speaks it, the way she enunciates each word like it means something more to her than a means of communication. There isn’t much time to dwell on that though because half way down the page, Jaylah utters something Uhura has never heard before.

“Wait.” Her hand falls to Jaylah’s arm in a gesture that is completely unnecessary and necessary at the same time. “Could say that word again.”

Jaylah does as she’s told, repeating the word as slowly and as clearly as she can manage as Uhura leans in closer, invading her space in the pursuit of science, of course.

Uhura must still look puzzled because next thing she knows, Jaylah’s fingers wrap around her wrist to pull her hand up, gently laying it flat against the soft skin of her throat.

“Maybe this will help.” Jaylah offers before repeating the word once again only to watch Uhura’s face light up with excitement. Her hand remains there for a moment longer, almost as if she has to physically will herself to pull away.

It takes a moment for Uhura to collect her thoughts though her smile never wavers, not even when she starts explaining her findings to Jaylah. She isn’t sure how much she understands but she nods along anyway as Uhura explains to her that laryngeal sounds have only been theoretically possible, until now, that is.

When she finishes, Jaylah smiles again but there’s a softness to it that wasn’t there before. “I like you, Nyota Uhura.”

Uhura hears her own heart start beating faster and considering how close they’re sitting, she would be surprised if Jaylah couldn’t hear it too. “Yeah?”

“Yes. I have never seen someone so happy about something as simple as words before.” There’s a pause before she adds. “I like it.”

**\---**

And that’s when it begins, in the library on that faithful night that Uhura can’t stop thinking about no matter how hard she tries. Jaylah’s native language is captivating and beautiful in a way that has Uhura replaying it inside her head day and night. In the shower, while she dresses, while she eats. Everywhere.

And that’s usually how it happens because if you think about a person’s voice long enough it’s only a matter of time before you start thinking about them too, before you start microanalyzing the way they sway along to the silent music pouring from their headphones or the way they stare at the rebuilding of the Enterprise with a sense of wonderment and _need_.

It’s not one sided either.

Jaylah watches her too, makes a point to eat lunch with her and Sulu or accidentally run into her on her occasional morning walk, citing some blatantly false excuse that makes Uhura wonder if she’s asking to be called out.

Maybe she is, maybe that’s just how they naturally progress from standing next to each other to invading each other’s space and eventually, to bridging the last bit of distance between them and pressing their bodies together.

They’re inside Uhura’s room when it happens and she’s immensely grateful for it because there’s nothing innocent about the way Jaylah’s fingers dig into her waist when she presses her against the door and seeks out her lips. Jaylah tastes sweet and Uhura chases after that with more hunger than finesse.

Jaylah doesn’t seem to mind, especially considering the way she tilts her head in such a way that just makes everything about this _dirty_. Dirty and deep and Uhura adds to it by sliding her fingers beneath the hem of her shirt. She just wants to touch, wants to feel the warmth of her skin as she presses her hands against the small of her back.

“I have thought about this ever since that night in the library.” Jaylah admits when she pulls back just enough to catch her breath though her fingers continue sliding up her thigh and under Uhura’s skirt.

“Me too.” She agrees with a breathy smile, drawing Jaylah closer once again to press sweet kisses against her cheek and jawline.

“If I would have known language is the way to your heart I would have said something sooner.” Comes Jaylah’s challenging response as she presses their chests together and kisses Uhura hard enough to bruise while her fingers push aside the thin fabric of her panties.

And there’s something about her choice of words that makes Uhura’s breath hitch again because Jaylah touches her with nothing but blatant desire yet her words pour from her heart, not the heat of the moment. A beautiful paradox that seems to describe Jaylah perfectly and highlights why she finds her so utterly fascinating.

Her fingers move inside of her with practiced ease and each moan that falls from Uhura’s lips is like a small victory for her, urging her to move faster and deeper. Uhura’s grip on her shoulder is just on the side of pain but the way she whispers her name when she finishes seems to make it all worth it for her.

Jaylah holds her up as she catches her breath and Uhura presses a few kisses to the side of her neck before claiming her lips once again. It’s softer than before, kissing for the sake of kissing as opposed to anything. Uhura flashes her a wicked smile before sinking down to her knees and sliding her hands up her legs until they come to rest on her thighs.

“Language isn’t the only thing my mouth is an expert in.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have such a love hate relationship with Steven Pinker because he's built his career on insulting people and that's both amazing and ridiculous but from this TED talks and such you would never realize how much he enjoys tearing people down.
> 
> The bit about laryngeal sounds is true though there is currently a well supported theory that tries proving that they did use to exist in Proto-Indo-European languages like Greek.


End file.
